Thick-Headed Thoughts Part 3
'Tis a wicked world we live in;
Wrong in reason, wrong in rhyme;
But no matter: we'll not give
While we still can come to time.
Strength's a shadow;
Hope is madness;
Love, delusion;
Friendship, sham;
Pleasure fades away to sadness,
None of these are worth a d---n.
There is naught on earth to please us;
All things at the crisis fail.
Friends desert us, bailiffs tease us--(To such foes we give leg-bail).
But a stout heart still maintaining,
Quells the ills we all must meet,
And a spirit fear
Lays our troubles at our feet.
So we'll ne'er surrender
To the ills that throng us fast.
If we must die, let's die gamely;
Luck may take a turn at last.
Adam Lindsay Gordon
Other author posts
Thoras Song Ashtaroth
We severed in Autumn early, Ere the earth was torn by the plough; The wheat and the oats and the Are ripe for the harvest now
The Rhyme of Joyous Garde
Through the lattice rushes the south wind, dense With fumes of the flowery frankincense From hawthorn blossoming thickly; And gold is shower'd on grass unshorn, And poppy-fire on shuddering corn, With May-dew flooded and flush'd wit...
Doubtful Dreams
Aye, snows are rife in December, And sheaves are in August yet, And you would have me remember, And I would rather forget;
A Hunting Song
Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord, If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford; And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,